


Harry Potter Oneshots

by SeekNotToAlterMe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, If you're uncomfortable im sorry, Redemption, dark plots, the underage thing is only just, there's some major death, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeekNotToAlterMe/pseuds/SeekNotToAlterMe
Summary: As title.Feel free to request.





	1. 1. Delightful

Warnings: (this isn't a good sign - the first chapter having warnings.) Murder, the reader is a Death Eater.

_________________________

Bartemius Crouch Jr.

A cackle left your mouth as Barty jabbed his wand into the air a further time. The stupid mudblood that was suspended from the ceiling screamed again.

The Dark Lord at the head of the table smiled his sadistic grin at you and the table, his loyal followers. Your sister, Bellatrix, had a wild gleam to her eyes that you could only assume you shared. You two were the Dark Lord's only true female followers, and Bellatrix was given the chair to the left of your master, and you the next chair. On his right was the mysterious but alluringly cold Severus Snape as his right hand. Next to Severus, and in your opinion, more loyal than him, was Bartemius Crouch Jr.

As the most handsome Death Eater to you, your eyes were always wandering back to the man. It was because of this that you missed the Dark Lord's nod for you to Avada the muggle woman.

"(Y/N)," Bellatrix hissed. She motioned for you to kill the woman. You blushed.

However, you quickly regained your cold exterior and pointed your wand decisively at the muggle.

"Avada Kedavra!" You said clearly and sneered as the screams finally abated. After a nod from the Dark Lord and his quick disappearance, the rest of the Death Eaters got up and milled about, talking about recent news and made bargains with the others.

"(Y/N), it was quite the honour our Lord granted you this evening," Lucius Malfoy's cold voice oozed into your ear.

"Honour? Honour, Lucius?" It was sad how little your brother-in-law really knew. "An honour would be to kill Albus Dumbledore, or one of his 'Order'. Killing a muggle is hardly an honour, Lucius."

"But still," Lucius seemed keen to get your approval.

A hand was placed on your waist. "Don't talk back to your superiors, Lucius," Barty said from your side. "It was a welcome end to her revolting cries, however."

"Indeed it was. How muggles do go on," you replied.

"Yes, I-" Your annoying cousin again tried to engage in conversation.

"Go away, Lucius, (Y/N) and I are trying to speak." Barty cut through. Lucius slunk away and left the two of you in peace.

"Thank you, Barty, he is rather annoying."

"Not at all, my dear," Barty grinned, his hand still on your waist and he spun you to face him. "How about you and I get out of this wannabe club, and go have some fun?"

"And then we could, say, grab dinner somewhere?" You suggest hopefully.

"Delightful," he replies and you both disapparate.


	2. 2. Like I should

Warnings: None unless you count an angry/angsty Snape and Lily Evans bashing.

This one shot is gender neutral for the reader.

_________________________

Severus Snape.

"Is she worth it, Severus?" You asked the young man in front of you. "You have everything. The trust of the two most powerful wizards in the world, the Prince family fortune and a good job at Hogwarts."

He snorted derisively.

"So it's not Defense. It's Potions, and you're damn good at that. The only thing you don't have is a snobbish mudblood."

"Don't call her that." You found yourself pressed up against the wall, Severus' wand pointed at your heart. "Oh please, Severus. You called her that too."

"Doesn't mean that I was right." Snape growled. "And it certainly doesn't give you the right to say it."

"Dammit Severus, she's a backstabbing twat!" You sighed.

"How dare you? She means everything to me."

Your heart broke just a little more as the handsome man in front of you kept his wand pointed directly at you in defense of someone else.

"You evidently mean nothing to her!" The words came out of you before you could stop them. You cursed yourself as Severus visibly recoiled from you and his face closed off. Lily Evans was a sore subject, you knew that. He turned his face away in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. It was time that he moved on, however. He couldn't spend his whole life bitter about a girl. It was time he realized he was handsome and could have anyone he wanted. "What I mean, Severus, is that if Lily Evans chose that blockhead Potter over you - if she thinks that he is more honourable, capable of more love, more handsome than you - then she simply isn't worth it."

He turned back to face you, slowly.

"Is - is that -" he hesitated. "Is that really what you think, (Y/N)?"

"Of course, if she can't see past the end of her no-" You prepared to continue on your tirade, but his long, slender finger on your lips stopped you.

"Of me, (Y/N). You think I'm honourable and handsome?" He removed his finger from your mouth. You blushed a little.

"Of course, Severus. I've known you for the past eight years. No one has ever struck me as honourable as you. You've never broken a promise, you've always been there for me and Lily when she needed you. Sure, you were a strange kid, but you grew into your looks, Severus. Ever since sixth year you've been outstandingly good-looking." Severus looked at you with a look like he'd never given you before.

"It's been two years?" When you nodded, he shook his head. "You've allowed me to pine for another person while you've liked me for two entire years?"

You shrugged. _It's a bit more than 'like' Severus._

He wrapped his arms around you in the first hug you'd ever gotten from the man.

"It's okay, Severus. I'm alright." You hugged him back. "I know you don't love me back. I've made my peace with that."

He pulled back to face you.

"I may not love you like I should right now, but I will. I will love you like I should."


	3. 3. Never Told Him

Warnings: This one's a sad one. I can't change the genius that is JKRowling, so we all know where this is going.

This one shot is also gender neutral. Every one shot will be gender neutral unless otherwise indicated.  
_________________________

**Fred Weasley**

"Percy made a joke, George!" Fred called to his twin as you jogged up to your best friends. You stopped in your tracks as you heard him say it.

"Not a chance did Percy tell a joke!" You said from behind them. They both jumped in surprise.

"(Y/N)!" They both said. Percy nodded to you with a smile on his face.

"Boys," you acknowledged. "How're you holding up?"

"I heard things were going well that-a-way," George pointed to his right. "But as for over there," he said, gesturing to his left, "haven't heard a thing for weeks now."

Fred groaned at George's ear related humour whereas you lightly smacked his arm. Percy smacked his forehead in mock disappointment. George pulled you into his side and ruffled your hair. Of the two, George was the more brotherly towards you. You had had a thing for Fred for a couple years now, but you were too afraid to ruin your relationship with either of them to say a thing.

"Well, I spotted Harry a moment ago and he looked like he needed help. Ready to kick some Death Eater ass?" You asked.

"You bet!" The boys spoke in unison, something you were used to, although still found a little creepy.

Percy grinned. "They destroyed the Ministry. Now I destroy them."

"Woah! Down, boy!" You joked. "So you're feisty now, huh?"

"I've always been passionate about the Ministry, (Y/N). For example, back when Mr Crouch was -"

"Give it a rest, Perce!" Fred chuckled. He slung an arm around your shoulders, trailing tingling sensations where he touched you.

The three of you ran through the halls of Hogwarts, scouting for Harry and Co. You found them battling five of Voldemort's followers. You barged in, throwing hexes left, right and centre.

In a few minutes of heated duelling, with bright colours streaking past your eyes, you had petrified the man who had been in front of you. You grinned triumphantly, and left the man where he fell. Turning around, you saw that the rest of your group seemed to be doing pretty well.

That is, until you saw the dark figure turn the corner and lift its wand to point at the ceiling above your heads. Harry looked up at the same moment and shouted a warning before you could. Everyone ran out of the general area except for Fred and his duelling partner.

"Fred, move!" You screamed at the top of your lungs. Everything seemed to slow down as the ceiling broke away and started to fall down, dust and small bits of rock rained down on you as the boulder sized pieces fell first on the Death Eater.

Fred turned to you and looked you straight in the eyes as the first piece landed squarely on his head. His body crumpled to the floor even as you did, body wracked with sobs.

As the pieces settled, someone ran over to you and cradled your body. You pressed into them let yourself go. Nothing mattered now.

George would be left with nothing and you would never even get the chance to tell Fred that you had feelings for him.

Later, as you still clung to Percy, for no other reason than he was there, and he was not a sharp reminder of Fred as George was, you bit a trembling lip to stop the dry sobs that ached to burst from your mouth.

"I know, (Y/N). It's going to be really hard." Percy squeezed you just a bit tighter. "There were a lot of things I had planned on telling that kid. So many things he won't know now."

You pulled away to look him in the eye. " _I_ never told him I loved him."


	4. 4. "Expecto Patronum"

**Warnings:** It's a teensy bit underage, but nothing explicit happens. 

_____________________________________________________________

Finally, in time for your last year at Hogwarts, you had a decent professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Actually, decent didn't cut it. Professor Lupin was bloody brilliant.

Sure, the man was a bit scruffy and scarred, and he certainly was not the most well-off wizard you'd ever met, but he was a whole lot better than Gilderoy Lockhart, last year's resident stupid pretty-boy professor. Luck would have it though, that Lockhart had managed to _Obliviate_ himself, and had consequently forgotten his own name, let alone the fame it came with.

As you sat in his first class of the year, you realized with startling clarity that the professor was attractive. While the Witch Weekly cover-worthy Lockhart had no sway over your hormones, the gentle assurances of the sandy haired man at the front of the class made your heart beat fast like no person ever had.

His lessons through the year had proved to be informative and interesting, though he did miss at least a class a month, for no logical reason. To be honest, it seemed as though he were chronically ill, or cursed with monthlies. It didn't matter, as he always came back and reviewed what Snape should have taught during the classes he missed.

During your last class with him before the NEWTs, he smiled at the class and then dismissed them a few minutes before the period was actually supposed to be over. While some students packed up quickly and practically ran out of the room, you took your time to put things away. As you finished and stood to leave, you made eye contact with the professor his eyes widened as if he hadn't noticed you were still there. Perhaps he hadn't.

"Everything alright, Miss/Mr (Y/L/N)?" He asked kindly.

"Oh, sure, professor" you replied, unsure exactly of what you were actually doing in the room. You thought fast. "I was hoping for some one-on-one help, actually, sir."

His face brightened. "Of course, come up close." You walked from your seat in the middle of the class to one that was in the front row. "What can I do for you?"

"It's actually more of a practical than a theoretical issue, really. No matter how I practice, I just cannot get my Patronus to work."

"That is a tricky one." He gestured for you to lead the way to an open space in the classroom where you could practice spells in class time. "You need to find the happiest memory that you know."

You thought hard, memories flicking by your mind's eye like cards, each one reviewed and discarded in an instant. You figured that maybe the day you got your beloved owl would work. Concentrating on his little brown face in your mind, you cast the spell. A small sliver of white trickled sadly out of your wand.

"Bloody hell."

"It's okay. Try another memory." Professor Lupin was calm and reassuring behind you.

This time you picked the moment when you received your Hogwarts letter. It achieved similar results. You picked another and another memory, with no results. Some were better than others, but only mildly.

"Great." You voice was dry and your shoulders slumped. "Guess I'm just a sad person."

"That's not true. The magic knows that there is another memory you can use."

"Well, it's mistaken. I've used everything that's ever happened to me that made me smile, even a bit. I've got nothing." You sighed and turned around to head back to your things.

The professor stopped you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, tingles spreading out from the connection of your bodies. "There must be something."

You thought for a moment. "Professor, how accurate is magic in respect to time? Like when relying on knowledge of memories."

"Fairly accurate I suppose. The magic would rely on you have already experienced something, so that you would be physically able to use the memory. Where are you going with this?"

"What if my happiest memory is about to happen, and magic just isn't accurate to the hour? Or something."

"I suppose that's possible. Is something coming up in the next hour?" He searched your face for answers you knew you didn't have.

"No. Just studying."

"Anything you were planning on telling anyone?"

Yes, that I think I'm in love with you.

"Not really, sir."

"That means you were thinking about it. And if you're hesitant, then it means your pride is at stake, no?" Your professor smiled sympathetically. "It's hard to lay your heart bare. Go on and do it. I'll be here for the rest of the afternoon if you have time to try your Patronus again."

 _Right. Like I would ever tell you about this_. You made towards your things, but turned back to the professor and caught his sad smile before it changed in a split second.

"Professor?" You hated how your voice shook.

"Yes, Mr/Miss (Y/L/N)?"

"It's you."

He looked confused. "I'm not sure I follow. What's me?"

"The one, as you so eloquently put it, to whom I must lay bare my heart." Professor Lupin looked at you with wide eyes but said nothing. "I'm afraid I might be in love with you."

When he still remained silent, you berated yourself. "Should have known. I should never have said a word. I'm sorry, Professor. I'll make my way out. Have a lovely summer."

Your hand was on the handle of the door when you heard a soft, "wait." You turned to face the sandy haired man who had taught you so much over the past year.

"I think I might love you as well."

Your face broke out in a wild smile as he strode over to you and cupped your face in his hand. He carefully placed his lips on yours. You broke away after a few breathless moments of what you could only call snogging.

With a dopey smile on your face and a lazy hand you waved your wand to see a sparrow take flight from the tip of your wand. You looked into Remus' eyes as you muttered " _Expecto Patronum_." 


	5. 5. I'd like that

**Warnings:** None! Look at me go! It's innocent!

______________________________________________

Your face broke out in a grin. _Brilliant. Bloody Brilliant._ Your favourite player in the country, let's face it the world, was amazing. A new recruit, barely out of Hogwarts, Wood was a Quidditch genius.

"He does it again, ladies and gentlemen! Wood blocked the shot perfectly!" In the middle of an intense game between Puddlemere United and the Montrose Magpies, you were announcing the game on both radio and live over the pitch and stands. Oliver Wood had not let in more than five Quaffles the whole game. As your fellow announcer continued his colour commentary about the boy, you watched him, marveling at his talent.

A brief twenty minutes later, the game was over. "Well, there you have it, witches and wizards, Puddlemere United has just bought their place in the playoffs, in this, the qualifying round. With a score of 160 to 40, the team can rest assured that they are well prepared for the knockout rounds coming up next month. This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and Ronan MacNair for the WWN, signing off."

Ronan nodded to you. "Nice work out there, (Y/N)."

"Thanks, you as well."

"Drinks with the lads?" It was a tradition that after a game the production crew would head out to the pubs and celebrate another emission well-broadcast.

"No, thanks, Ronan. I'm a bit knackered." Not exactly the truth, you were going to lag behind and try to snatch an autograph of Oliver Wood. You'd rather not have the boys watch you loiter around for a man that was never going to see you as anything more than the Quidditch commentator for Wizarding Wireless Network.

The boys soon left, and you made your way to the locker room hallway, where you sat on the floor and pulled out your sketch book and began to draw what was, in your opinion, the best play of the match.

As you were filing in the folds and ripples of the dark blue cape, you heard the swish of a broom as it was set down and a soft thump. You looked over to find someone very tall in casual robes standing beside you. You scrambled to your feet to come face-to-chest with _the_ Oliver Wood. You sucked in a breath and tilted your head up to look at the man beside you.

"May I see th' sketch?" he asked gently, and he pulled the book from your hands. His eyes flicked over the drawing quickly and looked at you, a wide smile on his face. "Was this from th' game tonight?"

You nodded and he went back to pouring over the page.

He looked back up at you. "You're from the WWN, aren't ye?" You nodded. "Sure don't talk much fer a radio host."

Your throat had closed up on meeting the man you had idolized ever since his premiere on the Puddlemere United side of the Quidditch stage. But at this last quip, you loosen and a laugh escaped your lips.

"I'm sorry, I just can't find the right words to use when meeting one's Quidditch hero."

"Really, I'm yer hero?" He looked incredulous. "Tha' cannae be! I've only been professional fer two years!"

"That's a decent amount of time to build up a reputation in sports, you know Mr Wood." You smiled. "Even in Muggle sports."

"Do ye play at all?"

"Very poorly." You reply with honesty as there is no point in lying to this man. You're only going to meet him this once, so you might as well be brutally honest.

"Do ye have other sketches of plays?"

"I only ever do ones of the best plays." He looks thoughtful, and you decide to step out on a limb. "I have a few other sketch books at home if you're interested?"

Oliver's eyes light up and he shoulders his bag. Picking up his broom with a -you can't help thinking it- very muscular arm, he says, "I'd like tha'."


	6. Alright

**Warnings:** It's Belatrix Lestrange. If she makes you anxious or anything else (which I totally understand) don't read this.

________________________________

"My love for the Dark Lord will not be overshadowed by your petty infatuation with me."

"My Lady, I would never dare usurp your most devotional and true love for him.' You sighed deeply. "I only wish to spend my time with you in a deeper fashion. I hold great respect for you. Surely you can understand that?"

She grinned viciously, the grin that made your heart lurch, that cemented the knowledge that you would follow her anywhere. Hell, you'd go to Azkaban for this witch.

"I understand that." She ran a cool hand down the side of your face. Bellatrix contracted her muscles and made baby noises at you. "Do you have a wittle cwush on me? Do you? Aw, are you gonna be all sad when Bella wejects you?"

You pulled back sharply, your black robes snapping. "No, Bella. I will not take this from you." You closed your eyes and sucked in breath through your nose. "I had thought you'd appreciate my forthright attitude. It seems I have judged you wrongly."

You turned from the room, trying to maintain your usual icy facade, and stop the tearing feeling you knew came from your heart. You had only the chance to take a few steps before she called out to you to stop. You refused to turn, but you did stop and you were prepared to listen.

"I cannot love you." Her voice soft as clouds, disguising the steel that ran through her soul and every decision she made.

"Cannot, or will not?"

"(Y/N), you know I cannot."

"I believe that you are afraid of being hurt, Bella." You turned to face her and walked back into her personal bubble. The room faded away as you focused on her eyes. "Let me in, dearest. Please."

Bellatrix did not answer vocally at first, but placed the chastest kiss on your lips.

"Alright."


	7. 7. Don't You Dare Apologize

Hermione Granger. 

Ah - she was perfect. Sweet, intelligent, appearing innocent. Her face was soft and kind, while her mind was sharp and witty. She'd seen horrors unseen by most in their lifetime, and yet she was only 16. Your age, and yet she appeared older, and she was certainly wiser than you.

Hermione looked up from her stack of books, sensing eyes on her, and you quickly went back to your own pile. Unfocused, the shimmer of your dark blue tie caught the candlelight, a wrinkle on your shirt stood out, and Hermione Granger was sitting only two chairs away from you - at the same table.

Your heart beat fast, it's usual slow march traded for a quick-time dance. You dipped your quill into the ink and tried to write your essay on the useful properties of phoenix feathers -something you'd researched extensively- but the words refused to come, and your essay remained one inch away from completion.

Crushes were Hell.

"(Y/N)?" A soft voice, her soft voice, spoke up from beside you. You looked over to find her staring. "You okay?"

You laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, thanks." And as an afterthought, "sorry."

She simply smiled and moved on with her work, quill gracefully dancing across the page. She looked up sharply, catching you staring. She raised an eyebrow, her wonderfully curly hair falling over one shoulder.

"I -uh," you started, feeling extremely stupid. "Just can't seem to finish this essay. Sorry."

She smiled again and moved over two chairs to sit next to you. Next to you! Your heart was likely to fail if she got any closer.

"Let me look at it." She grabbed the parchment from the desk in front of you and began to read.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, slightly surprised. "Uh, thanks. Sorry for making you leave your work."

"It's not an issue, really," she replied, eyes flicking at lightening speed across the page. A lock of hair fell across the shoulder closest to you and she nearly ripped it out of her head trying to get it back into place. Thinking she had fixed her hair, she let it drop, only to have it come back over. She groaned. She went to roughly grab it again when your hand covered hers to halt her motions.

"Stop it. It looks pretty. Not that you're not always pretty." Her face froze in shock and you turned away, immediately regretting your actions. You face heated, and you could feel the blood pour into your cheeks. "Sorry, I shouldn't have." You withdrew your hand and started packing up. You'd take your embarrassment back with you to the common room.

"No, don't," Hermione said quietly and you turned back to her. "I'm really quite ecstatic that you think I'm pretty." 

While still warm, your face cracked a grin. You pecked her quickly on the lips before pulling away, wondering if it was too much, too soon. Your mouth shaped the word sorry, but Hermione interrupted.

"Don't you dare apologize," she warned before grabbing your face and brought it to hers.


	8. 8. "Call Me But Love"

Sirius Black.

Of all the charming, mischievous beauties you could have loved, you were glad it was Sirius. Rarely did he remind you of his name sake, but that was fine with you.

Your relationship had only blossomed after months of him chasing you, and two years of you crushing on him. And though you liked him more than you'd cared to admit, you couldn't let yourself entangle with him. Known to be a ladies' man, the dark-haired tease was surely only out for a damn good shag. It had taken him months of convincing, cajoling, and even coercing before you agreed to a date. From there, nothing could stop the two of you.

You were the end of his promiscuous days, and he was the end of your frequent daydreams.

Just before the Spring holiday, however, Sirius was uncharacteristically living up to his name.

"Sirius?" You asked, sitting down beside him in the common room. His face was long, and his bright eyes were unusually dark.

"Hello, love. Yes, I am." A smile graced the right side of his mouth, but was fleeting in its humour.

"What's going on, darling?" You could guess. Sirius was probably being forced to go home. "Can't you just escape to James' again?"

Sirius didn't look up from staring at the carpet. "No, this time they need me home. It's their last chance before we graduate to hitch me to some pureblood idiot who thinks my parents are the best thing that ever happened to her. It's their last chance to indoctrinate me. Mother's charm on the family tree can be reversed only once. She's done it in preparation for next week."

"I don't get it, why are you going?"

"They've charmed James' place against me. I can't go near it anymore." He was silent for a moment. "No one will take me because of my name."

You smiled softly. "No witch or wizard will take you in," you corrected, thinking of your own, sweet Muggle parents. He looked at you, a bit of hope flickering on his face.

" 'What's in a name?'," You quoted. " 'That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet.' My parents won't give a damn about your pureblood family history. Come home with me."

Sirius grinned with both happiness and mischief. " 'I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized.' "

"Sirius!" You exclaimed, ecstatic that he'd agreed and that he'd taken time to read a bit of Shakespeare.

He grabbed your hand, his eyes boring into yours. "You're sure that you want me at your house?"

"My parents will be delighted to meet you. Besides, _love_ , I won't have you marrying anyone but me."

In response he contentedly snogged you until James and Lily forcefully pulled you apart.


	9. 9. I Prefer Lavender to Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was requested by @moaningvaleska... i hope you like it!

**Warnings:** the age gap isn't specified, but it is unmistakably slightly underage. But only just. Also, it is my prerogative as an author to believe that Lily Evans wore rose scented perfume.

_________________________________________

 

Severus Snape.

_Oh, Merlin's sweaty pants_ , you thought to yourself, inhaling the aroma of the potion in front of you. Months of distracting, self-punishment and straight-up denial had still led to this. The _Amortentia_  smelled of ashes, chalk and clean soap. You could detect a hint of the distinct brewed-magic smell that accompanied only one person you knew.

 

The door at the front of the classroom creaked open and shut, but you refused to look up at the nearing footsteps. Especially not when they only brought more of the unique scent to your nose.

 

You scribbled a few notes into your notebook anyway, about the colour and viscosity of the potion itself. In very small lettering, you added the components of the scent it produced for you. You could feel his eyes from a few desks away analysing the mother-of-pearl colour and spiraling steam of the potion.

 

"I hope you weren't thinking of using that on anyone, Miss/Mr (Y/L/N)," came the baritone drawl you had been expecting.

 

"Of course not, Professor," you replied, lifting your eyes to his face. "Only testing, as promised."

 

He pressed his lips together tightly, and he drew in a large breath, seeming to momentarily forget the unique properties of the potion. His eyes widened at the scent he picked up, and you only laughed softly.

 

"Been a while since you've smelled _Amortentia_ , Professor?"

 

"I -" he paused looking around the classroom. It was empty, save the two of you. You came in on the weekends to practice brewing and test out new potions, partly because you wanted to pursue a career in the subject, and partly due to the unmentionable factor that stood in front of you. "No, it's changed for the first time in many years." He added the last part softly, with his eyes closed. He shook his head and looked at you sharply, as if to tell you that you had heard nothing. "Tell me, what do you smell?"

 

You swallowed. It wasn't like you could refuse. That would be all to suspicious. "Ashes, sir. Soap, and chalk," you could feel your cheeks heating. "Brewing magic, -"

 

"In short, me," he said, lips twitching into the half-smile you'd seen only half-a-dozen times.

 

"Yes, Professor," you ducked your head down, wishing you could melt into the floor.

 

He arched an eyebrow and swiftly crossed the three feet towards you, robes billowing even in the short distance. He grabbed your chin and lifted your face to meet his eyes. With no explanation, he kissed your lips roughly, seeking more. 

 

Breaking away, you ran a hand through your hair. "Professor, I -"

 

"It's Severus," he said, breath fanning your face. A wry smile scrunched one side of his face. "I prefer lavender to roses anyway."


End file.
